The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1887-01-28
TWO WEDDINGS.
At Which There Were Neither
Bridesmaids Nor Flowers.

Bridesmaids Nor Flowers.
"Such wedding! No bridesmaids,
no music, no breakfast, no reccptioni
declare, should not feel as if | had
been marriedn' exclaimed Marion Will
loughby, throwing herself down upon
the low fauteuil in her own elegantly
appointed drawing-room, and throw
ing off the dclicately-tintcd gloves
which served as finish to the exquisite
Partisan toilet. There was only one
other occupantin the room, a man, tall
and handsome, standing with one hand
resting on the back of her chair. She
did not glance up as she spoke, or note
that Charles Thornley's face had lost
color.
You are speaking of Miss Marvine's
wedding" he said There is one es-
sential to most marriages that you have
not enumerated in your list of things
lacking. Was love wanting?"
ooh, no. l believe she loves him.
She certainly must do so to an almost
absurd extent. They are to go to
housekeeping in an questionable To-
cality up town, where he must be away
from early morning until quite six
O'Clock. He occupies some salaried
position-clerk in a bank, [ believe
and she might have married any body"
Honest labor degrades no man,
Marion, came the firm, quick answer
"Even a clerkship is not always found,
and would rather break stones in the
street than live on money acquired dis
honestly or doled out of charity, though
in such case would ask no woman to
share my lot.
"This looks like breaking stones, does
it not P' she laughingly answered, let
ting her own joweled fingers close over
the mans hand where it rested hand
whose shape bctokened its aristocracy,
and which was soft and white as a
woman's.
AT her light touch his strong arm
quivercd. He bent and let his lips rest
an instant caressingly on her hair, for
the girl beside him was his af1ianced
wife.
ut could break stones, though, dear,
and don't know but it would make
me better man. Suppose l lost my
money, MarionP Suppose it were all
swept away from me in an hour, and l
had position offered me-a position
which would enable me to live humbly,
very much as your friend is going to
liye-tell me what you would do ?"
"You are only talking to try me,
Chester, and l hate such questions. In
the first place, it is entirely out of rea-
son, for even were it so, papa, you
know, is very rich, and our home could
always be with him.
Il said to you that I would rather
starve than eat the bread of charity.
Therefore, putting this possibility aside,
tell me what you would do p''
Her fingers released their grasp upon
his hand. Was there significance
in the actionP He smiled bitterly as
he saw it. His face was very pale now.
Except that he stood still behind the
chair she must have noticed it.
You are utterly absurd this after
noon, Chester" she said, getulantly.
Have | not just told you that Edith
Mawine's wedding was more like a
funeral than weddingP And though
presume | shall one day have to at
tend my own funeral, | will not, as
sure you' be voluntary agent. Have
you nothing more agreeable that you
can find to say to me?n
The man shook off n certain some
thing which seemed to envelop him in
an almost Invisible cloud, and he an
swered with the old courteous grace
which suited him so well, and made his
power with women almost proverb.
Money always seemed to belong to him
by an inherent right Itwas so natural
that he should be rich No one could
have imagined Chester Thornley, poor.
He knew so well how to expend his
wealth. He gave it so generously, vet
without ostentation, that no man envied
him. Yet he knew half an hour later,
when he left his farewell on Marion
Willoughby's lips, that it was fare
well to all hopes and happiness.
The blow had already fallen. He
was a ruined man, with scarcely a
shilling he could call his own; he had
had no wish ungratified money could
procure in his thirty years of life. 1t
had fallen, too, through no fault of his
own, though there was feeble comfort
in that. There was comfort, however.
in the knowledge that he owed no
man, and that he might start afresh in
the world with no burden on his broad
shoulders or his conscience. True.
there was deep wound in his heart.
He had loved Marion so well that to
give her up was to voluntarily re-
nounce Gods sunlight. But all her life
had been spent amid luxury. 1t was to
her a necessity. Deprived of it she
would droop and fade; and better any
lot than to see her struggle and know
that he had brought it upon her. Be-
sides, she had made her choice. To
her wedding meant flowers, music,
friends, the toilet of bride. The future,
the communion of two hearts, the
solemn responsibilities incurred were
but secondary considerations.
Goodbye, my darling he said, as
they parted; but when she added
''until tomorrow he added neither
yea nor nay.
Tomorrow the world knew that
Chester Thornley's ship had gone upon
the rocks. Many of his business asso-
ciates would have held out to him
helping hand, but firmly and kindly he
refused every Offer He wrote Marion